


Thunder in the Mouth

by twiningsfortwo



Series: Sanctorium [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:36:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twiningsfortwo/pseuds/twiningsfortwo
Summary: Reunited at last, the Sanctuary crew settles into a new routine in Hollow Earth - but the ends left untied and mysteries unexplained never wait for things to be settled. Distaster strikes, quick as lightning, and only Helen Magnus has the resources and the wherewithal to heal her best friend...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And so it continues! I hope I can do justice to the first story here, I was so thrilled that it went over so well! I've got some big plans so, as the Friz used to say, "seatbelts, everyone!" Safety first, and good lord, I hope you guys like it!
> 
> UPDATE: Hey! So I was absolutely tickled *pink* when the wonderful AryaTred sent me some links that were apparently inspired by this little dealio I've got going on here, and I was thrilled! She gave me permission to pop them up here! 
> 
> http://arya-tred.deviantart.com/art/Out-of-the-Ashes-690221305?ga_submit_new=10%3A1499095606 
> 
> http://arya-tred.deviantart.com/art/Out-of-the-Blue-693523785?ga_submit_new=10%3A1500485069 
> 
> And here's her link here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaTred/pseuds/AryaTred
> 
> Oh yeah, I don't own anything. Especially not Sanctuary. No money made on this, etc. etc.

 

Helen walked out of the Great Hall with her tablet still glowing, striding in her strappy black heels. Her ears were still ringing. Belatedly, she checked to be sure her notes from the Council meeting were saved and stored on her tablet, then keyed it off, pulling the cover over the screen. She sighed, finding herself leaning against the wall outside the chamber. They still had a _long_ way to go.

It was good to be home, though, even if home was a little noisier today than normal. Perhaps this was a good thing. Talks were underway with the Council, and despite having some setbacks today, Helen felt confident that this new Council could mean great things for the survivors in Hollow Earth. And for the Surface, even if they didn't know.

It had been a week since the _Chelonioidea_ _arborescens_ and the near-flood in Vancouver. Since then, Henry and Erika had officially moved down, Henry taking up his old post as her tech expert, and Erika spent time in the infirmary on low-risk patients. Their presence had done much to cheer Will, though occasionally Helen found a wistful look come over him when he saw Henry and Erika together. Abby still refused to move underground. Idly, Helen wondered if she should have tried harder to convince Abby to work for her in a more official capacity, but Will had been very clear on their stances. Abby wanted to continue her career, and Will didn't want to risk the Sanctorium by catching SCIU's attention so soon after it had gone operational. They were practical people, she mused. Though Helen had noticed the strain that their relationship was undergoing from all the subterfuge.

A warm presence came into Helen's space, followed by a put-upon sigh.

“You know, a few more decibels and that collection of oddments you call a Council will shake the very firmaments, and all your Sanctorium will come crumbling down,” Nikola said morosely, though the glint of humour in his eyes gave him away.

Helen chuckled. “As if you don't have some experience 'shaking the firmaments' yourself.”

Nikola graced her with a scandalized look. “That was the once.”

He withered under her raised eyebrow.

“Okay, twice.”

She inhaled to remind him that it was _much more like five times, Nikola, don't you remember all the times that you--_ when Helen's phone chirruped happily in her hand. She glanced at the screen. The next update from Declan, out with Henry and a small team, for a supply run. She typed her response and sent it as quickly as she could, as if it would speed their return and the end of the mission. Helen breathed out a long sigh. She'd feel much better when all were present and accounted for back in Hollow Earth.

She looked up to find Nikola studying her, sending an odd shiver down her spine. His eyes were full of inquisition and curiosity, and a rare amount of patience. There was something else, too, but she'd have to leave that riddle for later.

“It looks like Declan and the others will be back within the hour. I'm going to head up to the front and meet them there, you're welcome to entertain yourself in the mean time. Within reason, of course,” Helen offered, already taking a few steps, then stopping. Her feet felt oddly reluctant to go, though. It was a strange feeling – they had swung in an out of each others lives endlessly over a hundred years, but this moment felt different. Never had she felt this kind of effort to disengage from what was such a casual, chance meeting.

She watched his eyes light up with mischief and felt a small measure of dread. She rolled her eyes.

“I mean it. I have enough mopping up to do after that meeting, without your antics on top of it all.”

“Ooh la la, vaguely sinister-sounding allusions to mysterious meetings. Pique my interest, why don't you?” Nikola chuckled, leaning in with a little smile. “I'm certain I could find something much more 'entertaining' to do, Helen, but if it's all the same, I think I'll head up to the gates myself.”

Helen's brows shot into her hairline. “Oh?”

Nikola's expression went dark in a heartbeat - all mischief was gone in little more than a blink. He scoffed. “Wolf boy has some explaining to do.”

“What on earth for?”

Nikola's eyes flashed, as piercing as a blade. “I had everything under control until that cretin swooped in.”

 _If by 'under control' you mean 'I was about to drown,' of course,_ Helen thought. Helen's mouth twisted in an unhappy frown. “I suspect that things might have turned out quite differently if he had not acted.” Not that she was very happy with the risk Henry took, especially when she had been practically powerless to help, but it did all turn out okay in the end. That was truly what mattered.

“Well, I don't fancy being lambasted and held accountable for his idiocy by the she-wolf.”

It was a weak excuse, but she let it slide. Helen very much doubted that Erika would ever blame anyone for such a thing. Though why such a thing would matter to Nikola? That was certainly odd in itself... Helen shook the thought from her head. No matter. There are other things to think about, she thought. The gates. Walking side by side with Nikola would make the trip much more pleasurable, so she more than welcomed him. And it would give her a chance to find out what he'd been up to, assuming that she'd want to know. Or that he'd tell her at all.

“Shall we, then?” Helen asked, taking another step backward, away from the Great Hall doors.

The entire Sanctorium was quite large, several city blocks in size. It wouldn't take an hour to traverse, but movement was better than nothing. Nikola was at her side in an instant, sweeping down the halls with a long, loping stride. He had tucked his long fingers into his pockets, his body a long lean line accentuated by the fitted waistcoat and the straight-leg fit of his trousers. A pair of two-tone loafers clacked officiously as he strolled, leisurely as you please yet somehow still wound tight as a drum. It made Helen think of a mountain lion, muscles kneading in its shoulders, positioning itself to strike.

Slowly, the wide curves of the Sanctorium gave way to the beginnings of the greenspace, followed by the front gate. Helen had her garden inside, but outside was carefully cultivated with greenery to improve the air quality. The “sunlight” shone down from above, a touch too white to look like real sun, bathing the entire “outside” with a slightly blue hue. A wide road stretched across the way, made of white and grey cobbles in a gentle undulating pattern, like waves.

Soon, the shadows of the trees gave way to the front gate, nestled right into the sheer rock face. It was a Praixian ring, very much like the various check points throughout the tunnels. Helen had lifted the design for the gate straight from the transit system, but added some improvements. For one, the gate was much larger, at least two storeys in height, with carved details in the inner part of the ring. It was a gun-metal grey on the outer ring, stark and imposing, with a metallic overlay on the interior. It was both elegant and functional, commanding and beautiful.

Helen had fitted the gate with sensors and cameras so that anyone entering from the main gate would be made note of. If they weren't in the database as a recognized ally, they were immediately flagged and tracked. If they were recognized as a threat, the gate was imbedded with the same tractors that the Praxian execution rings had. They would be seized immediately, with little hope of escape until someone released them.

She glanced over at her companion, and who's eyes had lit with excitement. Nikola stared at the metal gate with a look of intrigue, his lips slightly parted, a tiny grin tugging at the corners. Of course, Nikola had been drifting in and out of consciousness when he arrived, he wouldn't have had the chance to see the gate in all its glory.

“Nikola,” Helen began. He tore his eyes away from the wide gate, but his eyes didn't stop glittering. Her eyes slid across the sweeping lines of his neck and collar bones, which were artfully exposed by his undone top buttons. She shook her head to clear it. Ridiculous, to be noticing such things – she was not a schoolgirl. “How have you been feeling?”

“Oh god, Helen, you know I don't do squishy.”

Helen surveyed him deeply. “You've been here almost seven days now, and you haven't said a word about the resurgence of your electrical abilities. I would have thought you'd have been crowing about it to anyone who'd hear.”

He noted the tiny little tells in his expression; the way his eyes darted away for just a moment. “Well, I wouldn't want to rub it into the peons' faces, would I?”

“Of course you would.”

“Well, what can I say? There have been so many toys for me to play with since I woke up here, I barely knew where to start.”

Helen shook her head in disbelief. “And you didn't start with yourself? Who are you, and what have you done with Nikola?”

He moved, sudden aggravation pinching off his expression, his entire body taught as a wound spring. In fact, he looked like he'd fly apart from the tension stored inside him if he was given a prod in the wrong spot. Then it suddenly melted, before his face relaxed into a come-hither smile. “Playing with myself would be no fun alone.”

“Don't change the subject--”

“In fact, it would be so much more fulfilling with you.”

“Nikolaaa,” she said in her best warning tone; a tone perfected through a hundred years of Nikola Tesla.

His smile faded.

Helen took a step forward. While dancing around the subject was always Nikola's favourite game, avoidance was never really Nikola's style. _Something_ , whatever it was, had gotten under his skin... and she intended to find out what. Maybe someone else would be afraid of him flying off the handle, but she wasn't. They'd been through far too much together. She reached in to touch his chin, to lift his face to meet her. “Tell me what's wrong.”

He looked away, the tension returning in full force, his body edging away from her.

“Well don't look now, but the traveling circus has returned,” Nikola said, gesturing with his chin toward the gate.

 

  
.oOo.

  


Nikola never thought he'd be so thankful to see the merry band of Robin Hood than he was at this moment. They were approaching the gate at a good speed, and it worked wonders to derail Helen's sudden and baffling choice to drill him about his rediscovered abilities. And that was perhaps the very last thing he wanted to her to do. The burning ache in Nikola's shoulderblades was still building – a shooting pain, jumping through his back. No, best to leave out this detail. The supply run detail couldn't have had better timing.

Sometimes, Helen was just infuriatingly... _Magnus._ Having met Gregory Magnus, Nikola was quite convinced that she'd inherited her stubbornness, tenacity, and her uncanny ability to unravel what is best left alone from her father's side of the family. Clearly her beauty was a matrilineal trait. 

H e hung back, giving Helen her moment to speak with MacRae.  The man stood tall, grounded and strong, his feet in a wide, action-ready stance. Nikola had never really given much of a thought to the man, dismissing him as another cog in the machine, but it had never escaped his notice that he was.. irregular, in terms of Helen's organization. MacRae was never a scientist. He was a soldier. He took a moment to wonder how it became involved in the Sanctuary project to begin with. 

“Wut up, T-dawg,” came a voice, following quickly by the appearance of Henry. His hair was standing up in a wavy, sweaty mess, and his face was smeared liberally with dirt and flecks of something red. His gear was askew, the pants torn at the knees, with a dark red stain around the holes. His hands, wrapped around the straps of his pack, looked worse for the wear, as well.

“What on earth have you done this time?” he replied, not meaning to sound quite as acerbic as he did.

Henry's expression went flat. “Why do you always think it's my fault?”

“Because you have a natural aptitude for trouble and you are an abject failure at rational decision-making.”

Henry's eyebrows shot up. “Well, someone's feeling a bit punchy.”

Nikola sucked on his tooth. Though he was  _loathe_ to admit it,  Wolf-boy was probably right.  The HAP was... of above average intelligence. And loyal. And he'd not hesitated to come to Nikola's rescue.  _Not that I even needed it, of course,_ Nikola thought to himself. 

“So what happened?” he prompted.

Henry smiled sheepishly, like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  He shifted his pack a little further up his shoulder, and shrugged with his other shoulder. 

“Turns out that rappelling down the south-end of the Gulley was _not_ a faster way of getting back.” 

Nikola stared.

Henry squirmed.

The Gulley was not far from the  Russian Caldera; a deep slice into  the lodestone some 25km deep, slick and  full of spires of stone, jutting out from the depths like daggers. 

“... There's idiocy, and then there's leaping into an underground Grand Canyon with nothing but a rope--”

“Okay, we were running out of time, and we needed--

“\--and praying that you don't fall to your death--”

“\--to get back! Alright, what are you, my _dad_?”

“You're grounded.”

“What! You can _not_ be serious right now.”

“Yes, I can--”

“If anyone needs to be grounded _,_ it's you, Mister Zap-A-Turtle!”

“Yes, I _did_ zap that turtle. I didn't need you storming down.”

“Tesla, you almost-- Man. See if I bother saving you, next time.”

“You made my best waistcoat smell like _wet dog_.”

“And if I hadn't, you wouldn't have been alive to complain!”

“Gentlemen!” came Helen's voice, cutting through the quickly mounting argument. “If you are _quite_ finished.”

“Not remotely,” Nikola muttered, ignoring the dark look that Helen shot his way. Henry looked like he might argue, but had enough general respect for Helen that he bit his tongue. He was moving jerkily, waving about his stunner, expressing all the things he desperately wanted to say, but couldn't. He wouldn't put it past the little HAP boy to set the damn thing to full shoot him with it. To express himself. 

Nikola sighed deeply. He watched as Helen's eyebrow eased and she turned back to whatever kind of micromanaging she was engaged in. He turned back to Henry, who was fiddling with his pack straps again, and they shared a small grin in truce. It was worth it to get Helen's goat – even if she might actually ground the two of them for real.

Nikola turned and began walking back toward the Sanctorium, leaving Henry to scramble all his gear together and catch up. Surely Helen and G.I. Joe over there could handle the rest of the supplies. He swept down the cobbles, past the “wooded area,” and had made it most of the way to the front door of the Human quarters before Henry cleared his throat awkwardly. Nikola raised a brow, and turned.

Henry didn't shrivel under his glare this time, but set his shoulders back. He had his Serious Face on; which did not bode well. In fact, he looked un-ordinarily canny.

“Alright, out with it.” Nikola snarled, feeling his patience snap back like a rubber band.

Henry continued to hold Nikola's gaze. Every so once in a while, this part of Henry would appear, the part of him that housed his brilliance. Nikola had bemoaned that his kind-of-protégé had to be such a dork, but somewhere under all of that goofiness and the carefree smiles, there was someone that even Nikola couldn't deny had the potential for greatness.

“I know, you know.”

Nikola couldn't help but scoff. “You know I know what?” But Henry's serious demeanour never slipped.

“I know why you've been hiding since we got here.”

He quirked his brow once more. “Hardly. I'm not a huge fan of campfires and _Kumbaya._ ”

Henry let his breath out in an angry huff. “You know that's not what I mean! You haven't even come to see me and Erika!”

“Oh Heinrich, I didn't think you'd miss me so much.”

“I can smell the ozone on you, Tesla.”

Nikola felt his blood suddenly go cold, and the feeling of _ashes in his throat_ returned. His mouth fell open. The denial was poised on his tongue, but Henry cut him off.

“And even with your powers before, there's no way you could have done what you did before. Something's changed. I can tell.”

Nikola turned away, feeling the stuttering shooting of electricity creep through his chest, as if there were an electrical fence wrapped around his ribcage. It shot into his abdomen, clutching at his organs, making things jump and jolt uncomfortably. He thought he was hidden it far better than that. Nikola did everything he could to contain his reactions to the _pain,_ ever since that strange night.

And if Henry knew, it was only a matter of time before Helen did.

Henry placed his hand on Nikola's shoulder, and promptly tore his hand away. “Ahhhffuu-- Ow! What did you do that for?”

The electric skittering jumped out of Nikola's shoulders and Henry's face drained of colour.

“Tesla?”

Nikola felt his eyes darken over, his fangs creep out and puncture his lip. His heart leapt into his throat. _Oh no._ “Henry, _move!_ ”

Nikola's body shook suddenly in one huge convulsion. He cried out, grasping desperately on the reins of his power, searching out the tendrils of sensation that would ground him, and _yank_ the control back into his hands. Every time he reached, the charge increased, mounting, building, and suddenly he couldn't contain it.

He screamed.

  


.oOo.

  


Abby sat, legs crossed, at her desk, tapping away at the keyboard in something of a bored daze. This was the third time she'd tried to type the same sentence in her _Ericius vicus_ report and she was beginning to wonder. Only so many papers on migrations and behavioural patterns could pass across her desk before it began to clue her in.

Abby had been benched.

If she weren't so bored, he might have been worried that someone had figured it all out. After all, she'd technically passed intel to Public Enemy Number One -- even if she was a lovely woman, and everyone thought she was dead. Abby glanced up the prosaic hallway, to look at the placid cubicles full of happy little SCIU analysts. No, if someone had caught on, there'd be much more hullabaloo. And men with guns in the office.

Hell, she might even welcome it by this point.

She typed away, temporarily distracted by the annoying chime of an incoming email. This had been the preternaturally quiet experience of the last week. Report, after report, after report. Ever since they lost the giant turtle island, it seemed like the bigwigs had hidden themselves away up by the drawing board again. Will had been sighted at the scene, and she'd heard whispers in the hallways; seemed like her bosses thought Will had assumed Magnus' position like some kind of Batman/Abnormal vigilante.

Abby was familiar with the political landscapes of government offices by now. She'd noticed that things were beginning to divide, even more so since the turtle incident. More and more, people were not buying the party line, that SCIU was the one and only defence between our civilians and the things-that-go-bump-in-the-night. More than once, she'd seen the analysts shrugging sullenly in their chairs, exchanging glances of disbelief when yet another vetted "expert" appeared with a new presentation - which was either nonsense, or something that really toed the Geneva line.

Abby propped up her head on her hand, letting out a deep sigh. There just weren't words for this kind of boredom. But, at least the week wasn't all bad. Having Erika show up at her door at stupid o'clock in the morning turned out to be the best part. They popped in a silly movie and stayed awake all night long, like a couple of grade school girls having a sleepover...

  


_Erika laughed. “It just goes to show that not all the best things in life are champagne and caviar. Sometimes they're popcorn and terrible jokes.”_

“ _Hey, c'mon, we all know that all the best bits of life are popcorn and terrible jokes. And Tim Curry.”_

“ _He is the best part of life.” They laughed, and Abby felt warm inside._

_Abby curled her toes underneath her legs a little further, pulling at her blanket. The pale light from the TV flickered about the room, otherwise darkened. Popcorn was popped, non-offensive fizzy beverages were poured and the play button was pressed, and despite the weirdness that was having a pregnant Erika in her living room after thinking she was in England, or dead, Abby couldn't remember having this much fun._

_It's not every day that your boyfriend's almost-brother shows up out of nowhere and they go chasing giant turtles so you and the almost-brother's girlfriend watch the Clue Movie at 5:00am. With work the next day, probably, since the giant turtle thing would probably become competition between her bosses and Will's boss. But hey, that was life now. It was much more fulfilling than pushing paper in the FBI._

_She glanced at Erika. Erika was wearing a pair of Abby's flannel pajama pants with a pale blue shirt. She was just as beautiful and elegant as Abby remembered, perhaps even more so in the beginnings of motherhood. Her long hair was deep and shiny in the darkened room, her heart-shaped face pointed resolutely in the direction of the TV. She looked healthy, but a little strained. And Abby could see why – from what little she'd been told and the great deal she'd put together on her own, Abby knew that Erika had been on the lam since the explosion. That kind of stress, plus a baby, plus living with Henry, and dealing Nikola Tesla on top of that? The woman was a saint._

_Erika returned her gaze. “You don't have to worry, I promise,” she said. Abby made a wry smile._

_She was good, but Abby was better._

“ _I won't presume to know what you're going through,” she began, shifting her feet again restlessly. She could never stop her feet from moving. “But I know exhaustion when I see it.”_

_Erika nodded. “It's true. But I'd rather watch a film with a friend than lay awake waiting.”_

“ _Me too.”_

_Erika smiled. “It's too bad I didn't bring my foot masks. This would have been the perfect time for that.”_

“ _We'll just have to make it a weekly thing,” Abby replied with a grin. She held out the bowl to Erika, who took a little handful. Abby smiled to herself as she noted the delicate way her friend tossed each individual kernel in her mouth. Abby, on the other hand, was more than happy to shove the whole handful in her face. Once upon a time, she might have been a bit envious of girls as graceful as Erika, but less so now. Even though she still felt singled out and strange, she had Will, and a whole new life in which she could use her talents._

“ _I'd be delighted,” Erika said, raising her glass. The gentle clink of their toast as almost immediately drowned out by a loud obnoxious scream from the television screen._

  


  


Abby's email chimed again. She minimized her report to take a look. As soon as she did, her eyebrows shot upward. She skimmed over the long series of swirls and knots, in a large block of text, sitting in her inbox. What the heck is all this? Abby wondered, scrolling down, looking for some kind of indication as to what she was looking at. But, nothing: just a big block of jumbled swirly looking symbols.

Well, she thought. That's interesting.

Abby forwarded the email to her own personal account, with every intention of wiping the traces as best she could. Not that anyone was likely to come looking in her direction, (certainly not if she continued to be working on reports about mating dances, that was for sure.) But, it was so much better to be safe than sorry. Especially if they really did notice what she was doing. Namely, something a teeny bit illegal.

Abby glanced around the office. It was as it always was, a wide space partitioned on one side with glass walls, the panes reflecting blocks of fluorescent light. Desks were set in cubicles, dotting the other side with short plastic fences, as if to organize all assets in a neat grid. Abby's desk was one such cubicle on the end, her secret escapade hidden by nothing but a barrier between desks roughly a foot high.  
What was this weird email? It was coded, obviously. Or in an alien language, for all Abby knew. Was it from Will? Or from someone else?

It would have to wait, though. She was faintly aware of a presence, feeling somehow distinctly like she was being watched. She let her shoulders relax, putting on her best attentive face, clacking away on her keyboard, and pulling a sheet from her desk. (Her desk was more of a heap of sheets instead of an actual desk for writing on.) _Ericius_ _vicus_ at the least was kind of interesting. A strain of Abnormal  
porcupine with long quills made of a hollow quartz. The longer quills were prized on the Abnormal black market - she'd once seen a quill almost 8" long made into a beautiful pen. When held up to the light, the quills refracted light in a dazzling way.

Gentle footfalls were the only warning Abby had that someone was about to walk behind her. She looked up in time to see the retreating form of a short man walking away in a navy suit. His hair was a little bit on the long side, in thick waves. His stride spoke of cool confidence, not to mention comfort. Suddenly Abby was quite glad she'd been feigning attention. It was so rare that the General Manager came down to this level, but he was well-known. He was handsome, charming, and _unctuous_ , with a touch of impropriety that sent a shiver down her back. 

What on earth was he doing down here? 

  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikola felt his eyes darken over, his fangs creep out and puncture his lip. His heart leapt into his throat. Oh no. “Henry, move!” Nikola's body shook suddenly in one huge convulsion. He cried out, grasping desperately on the reins of his power, searching out the tendrils of sensation that would ground him, and yank the control back into his hands. Every time he reached, the charge increased, mounting, building, and suddenly he couldn't contain it. He screamed--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone! Hold on to your socks! I hope you enjoy the second chapter of the second installment! We're jumping right in!

 

 

In a flurry of activity, Helen raced down the halls of the Sanctorium. Her heels were clacking loudly against the floor, a halting rhythm as she tried to keep up. She was wheeling the gurney with Nikola's prone body, wrapped up in a polyethylene tarp, which convulsed again with huge jolts of electricity. Henry was on the other side of the gurney, still in his gear, gripping the side with white knuckles.

“Nikola,” Helen cried, “just hold on!”

The gurney wheels thundered and rumbled down the hall, the medical wing at the end of the hallway. Erika stood with her hand holding open one of the double-doors, lines crossing through her features, her normal calm marred by worry. Her eyebrows pinched upward, her mouth slightly agape.

“C'mon, Tesla. I didn't save your ungrateful hind end just to have to wheel you into the ICU, you prick. C'mon man, hang on,” Henry said under his breath, punctuated by sharp exhalations.

Arcs of electricity shot out, grounding into the surrounding hallway. It _zipped_ into the ceiling, the wall, the floor. It _zapped_ about, impeded by plastic lining that Nikola was wrapped up in. His hair stood on end, his head lolling, with his fangs poking out, rubbing his bottom lip raw.

They crashed through the door as Erika held it open into the infirmary as Helen shouted.

“Move every patient that can be moved! We don't want any more injuries here. Nikola! Nikola, can you hear me?”

Lighting swept through the room, throwing metal crash carts over, scattering the delicate instruments and the stock of drugs across the room. The lights were struck, burning bright with the extra charge before exploding in their holders. Helen threw her arms in front of her face, hearing Henry yell as he was showered with filaments and broken glass bits. The room went dark for a moment before emergency lights came on, bathing the room in an eerie off-colour light.

“Nikola! Come on, stay with me! Nikola!!”

Nikola moaned, his body twisting long in a corkscrew spiral from the top of his head to his tailbone. He twisted into the gurney, his flailing arms held by the tarp he was cocooned in.

Erika was wheeling things out of the way, while simultaneously staying as far back from the commotion as she could. If it were just Erika, no doubt she'd be in the thick of things, but with the baby...

No, it was up to Helen.

But how could she solve the problem if she didn't even know what the problem _was?_

Nikola's body began to still, his skin pale with exertion, a sheen of sweat glazing his face, shining in the grooves of his skin. His eyes fluttered, flickering in and out of consciousness – and what she could see of his eyes were not the normal steel blue, but the black and deep red of his vampirism. His fingernails extended, as well, growing and shortening as if they just couldn't decide where in the transformation process he was going to be.

“Alright, I want everyone _out_ , right now,” she commanded, adjusting the gurney into the remaining light now that Nikola's violent convulsions weren't making the entire thing shake. “Henry, I need you in the lab – I don't want to be caught off guard if Nikola blows out the generators.”

“You got it, Doc,” he replied, and after a quick kiss on the cheek to Erika, he was gone.

“Erika, I need you to find Will. Tell him to be ready to lock down the high-risk residents and to have a team on stand-by.”

Erika's eyes hardened. “On my way,” she replied, turning to hurry out the infirmary doors.

Helen set everything else aside. _Nikola,_ she thought to herself, _what have you done?_ Not only that, how could she help without being shocked? The kind of voltage that Nikola could generate, even before all of this, could easily stop a man's heart.

Though one look at his slack face had stopped Helen's.

She crossed the room quickly, pulling out her earrings and tossing them aside. No sense in having any metal, if she could help it. She stopped at one of the cabinets, rifling through the strewn contents. There were little jars of medicine, bottles of cleaning supplies, sponges, spares and doubles of almost everything, and somewhere in there should be...

Helen smiled a triumphant smile when her fingers finally found a pair of oversized rubber gloves. She slid them onto her hands, her mouth twisting at the bad fit. But beggars couldn't be choosers. Second, she turned her head to scan the room. Quickly, she spotted a squat little step stool. _Well,_ she thought, as she scooped up the step, _it'll have to do._ Helen rushed back to Nikola's side, praying that it would be enough.

She placed the stool next to the gurney, and stepped up onto it. She took in a big breath, adjusting the gloves as best she could. She could be about to electrocute herself. Of the ways that Helen thought she might die, electrocution wasn't one she had planned on. But still... she reached out, and touched his shoulder.

There was little crackling noises, like the sound of a static shock after shuffling your feet through a long carpet and touching a friend. They hummed noisily as electricity tried to escape Nikola. However, she remained alive and conscious.

First thing she checked was his pulse. From what little she could feel through the awkward gloves, his pulse was erratic and weak, but it was there. His breath came out in shallow puffs, as if he'd run a marathon and just collapsed on a couch somewhere.

“Nikola?” she asked, “can you hear me?”

Her fingers raced to the buttons of his shirt, the exposed collarbone now highlighted by a sheen of sweat. She had to fight through the gloves to get the buttons undone; she could barely feel them, much less actually manipulate them. The button slipped a second time, and a third, before finally _well forget that,_ Helen simply tore the shirt open, raining buttons everywhere.

There was a wheezing chuckle.

“... you could... have got... me... dinner... first...” he said between breaths.

“ _Nikola!_ Dear God, what's happening?”

Nikola's head lolled, but his eyes were engaged. He gave Helen such a sardonic look, Helen would have laughed if things didn't look so dire. It was just such a Nikola thing to do. Quickly, she pulled the tarp out of the way, leaving it to hang around the edge of the gurney. There wasn't time to make it neater. She grabbed a small light to check Nikola's pupillary reflex. It was awkward, with the gloves, but she managed to hold open the first eye, and the second. There was barely any change in the wide black of his eye, but the change was equal on both sides.

Hopefully, that was a positive sign for brain activity.

She began prodding softly, checking as bet she could for any broken bones, ignoring his grumblings of complaint.

“What on _earth_ have you done this time?” she asked.

“What? ... Why is it... my fault...?”

“Should I answer chronologically?”

He scoffed, quickly turning into a groan as electricity suddenly discharged, leaping into a nearby lamp, which promptly blew out.

“I should’ve--” Nikola tried to say, before another small electrical attack came on. Helen bit her lip, removing her hands. She waited until the worst of the convulsions ebbed.

Nikola tried again.

“I should’ve known.. you’d hold a grudge.”

Helen scoffed, continuing the check for broken bones in his arms. “What can I say? You’re a difficult man. Especially when you won’t hold still.”

He was exhausted; wrung out, like a ragged dishtowel. His eyes eased out of the deep black for barely a moment before deepening again. His claws grew one moment, and retracted another, in a halting, palpitating rhythm, as if he were gasping for breath with his whole body.

A terrible look crossed his face.

“Helen. I can't control it.”

Her brow pinched. “You can't control what?”

A haunted shadow deepened. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Alarm shot though her. She placed her gloved hands on either side of his face. “You won't.”

She tried to bury her personal feelings. She was a doctor, and he her patient. She had to be professional. Try as she may, though, the terror kept bubbling up. Her hand flew to his pulse. It was so weak, she could only barely feel it through her gloves. She fought the desire to rip them off to get a better feel for it.

“Something's been... wrong...” he whispered. “It _hurts._ ”

His eyes fluttered, his body slackened. His breath slowing.

“Nikola. _Nikola._ ”

_She couldn't feel the pulse._

“Nikola, come back to me. Please,” Helen's voice barely came out at a whisper.

But he was still.

 

.oOo.

 

Henry tightened the parameters on his system search again, but it didn’t really help. He glanced at the screens, but the lock-down protocol had done its job. Everything was safe and secure – which would be good, if it didn’t leave Henry so much time to think. Because bad things happened when he had too much time to think.

For one, he had a million different situations running through his head, each worse than the last, as to what could’ve happened. Obviously it had to do with Tesla’s electric power. His mind raced through all of the worst possibilities – mind control, weird abnormal parasites, Electro-the-energy-ghost getting into Tesla somehow and wrecking havoc on the systems _again_ , aliens (though that seemed unlikely.) But not knowing set him on edge.

It was weird, now that he knew the guy. He never thought he’d actually care what happened to Tesla, but here he was. Weirder still that he was incapacitated. Twice. In a week.

Though concerned as Henry might be, it was best to let the Doc do her thing. And if sitting sentry at his computers took care of one more concern so she could do what she needed to do, Henry would sit by his computers.

He tabbed by an open Reddit thread. It was a thankless task, but he would take one for the team.

A howling noise came from the cell hanging out of his pants’ pocket, bringing a smile to Henry’s face. He had to struggle un-catch the phone from his pocket _somehow_ before bringing it to his ear.

“Hey Will, what’s up?”

“Just checking in. Anything on the monitors?”

“Nope. Everyone’s snug in their enclosures. Why, you got a hunch?”

“No, I was just wondering. The way today is going, the _last_ thing we need is for something to sneak up on us.”

“Yeah, no joke.”

Henry tabbed through the screens again, pulling up the bare bones security programming. Just in case this really was going to be another Electro moment. There was absolutely nothing wrong with beefing up the firewall a little more, given all the insanity of the last time. After all, it was bad enough when the Sanctuary was above-ground. But this one was underground. Any hack could worm its way into the “environment” controls, into air purification, the gates on the really nasty critters... and all the Praxian tech.

He typed in another command, with a brief correction. Nope, that would be all kinds of bad.

Tabbing back, Henry checked in on the camera in the infirmary. It looked like Tesla's big reaction had waned, somewhat, but he didn't seem to be looking much better. Even on screen, he looked deathly pale, his visible skin marked with several angry marks where his skin looked to be healing from another bolt leaping out of his body.

It shook Henry to think that Tesla could lose control. This was Nikola Tesla. Granted, he was a giant doofus with an ego like Mt. Olympus. And granted, he was far from perfect, and absolutely capable of making mistakes. More than capable. Really quite skilled at it, actually. Very skilled – he was very skilled at making really terrible mistakes. But somehow, despite being a doofus, he managed to hold onto the reins of whatever bucking Bronco he was riding. And even if he did get tossed, (usually by Dr. Magnus,) he would land on his feet like a cat with lives to spare.

If it had been a little disconcerting to see him get his powers back, it was downright unnerving to see him literally struck down by lighting. It was almost as if he just couldn't contain all the energy, it was _grounding_ , and overloaded.

If even Tesla could lose control… then Henry could too. And that was a sobering thought.

He watched as the Doc leaned in, her hands covered in giant rubber gloves, poking at Tesla as he lay there. She was leaned over him awkwardly, trying to crunch down to fit over him on the table.

He tabbed away. He might be feeling a little desperate for answers, but obviously so was the Doc, and she'd let him know whatever he needed to know. It would be best if he just stuck to the programming. He had been given a job, and boring as it might be to watch a bunch of closed doors, it was important.

Henry slumped in his chair.

“I hate waiting.”

Henry continued tweaking the security system for another half hour before he broke down to check the monitors again. The Doc had moved, she was looking through one of the upended carts for something. He could barely see the edge of a stool where she had been standing before, which suddenly made a whole lot of sense. Of course, she was up on a stool so she didn't get shocked. Duh. That's why she looked weird when she was leaning over.

Dr. Magnus came away from the cart with a needle and a small bottle. She loaded it up with whatever it was, and held it up to the light to tap it. Henry grimaced when she stabbed the needle into Tesla's leg.

 

.oOo.

 

“ _Nikola, come back to me. Please.”_

Nikola drifted in and out of consciousness; his world a blur of faces and disjointed single word snatches.

The back of a head with a bun of chestnut curls.

A shuddering jolt of pain leaping through his left arm.

A smear of light and shadow.

Abruptly, there was a pinch in his thigh. His chest heaved, adrenaline filling up his veins like a song.

He stared dumbly at his thigh and saw a hand pull out a needle. He tried to piece together why it was there to begin with, but his brain seemed to be nothing but a nebulous fog.

“Oww,” he said, trying to heave himself up to lean back on his elbows. His body was proving to be traitorous, however. Despite the new burst of adrenaline, he was shaking like a newborn foal. “I thought you _liked_ me.”

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be trying to save your life.”

Nikola made a face. “You saved Adam.”

Helen deadpanned, and the silent _I am very unimpressed with you_ was written right across her face. A tiny smirk tugged on Nikola's lips.

At the very least, it helped distract him from the feeling that his skin was going to let go at the seams and that he would simply erupt in a flash of lightning and thunder. His nerves felt like they were pushing critical; every tiny feeling from the scratch of the surface he was laying on felt like a bed of thorns. The flat recycled air current felt like being slapped with hurricane winds, despite the lack of force. Every nerve ending was firing off and it was all he could do to keep himself together.

Some kind of sense, something that was once deep within now danced across his skin, unleashed, uncontrolled, a _brightness/tangy/deep bruising blossoming/power_ that hovered just beyond his reach. At once both so familiar and so different.

He looked up, into Helen's pale sapphire eyes. They shone, alight with strength and determination. It was that look she got, the one that she would find a solution, no matter the risk, no matter the cost. Even if the cost were her own life. Especially if the cost where her own life.

“Don't you dare,” he hissed, trying desperately the grasp the tendrils of power before they could leap away. He clenched his hands, praying that he could hold it all in. He couldn't hurt her. He would never hurt her. If she were hurt...

He felt a surge, deep from in his chest. It bubbled from that place deep within, opening his cells like floodgates, the white-hot _power/pain/rush_ sweeping through him, burbling under his surface, burning with excruciating grace. _No. Oh no. Not again._

“Get away from me!” he shouted. He was surprised to hear the multi-tonal depth of vampirism in his own voice.

She stared, utterly surprised, both affronted and hurt. As much as it made something ache in him to see her look at him with that face, the alternative was so much worse. He would never forgive himself if he...

“I can't--” His vision blurred, going white. He jerked from where he lay, trying to roll, scrambling away. Something hit him in his side, a sharp pain quickly drowned by the cacophony of feelings clinging to his skin, looking to discharge. Suddenly, he was falling, and landing on the cool ground. He felt the breath rush out of his lungs, but he couldn't hear. An insistent buzz became a swarm of hornets in his ears.

He tried to roll back, and ended up on his side, his body curling of its own volition.

“Nikola!” That was Helen.

“Magnus, _move!_ ” Not Helen – someone else? A man?

There was a tiny sound, almost obscured entirely by the commotion in the room. There was another pinch, this time in his side, followed by a numb, drowsy sensation. Nikola at once stuttered, and slumped over. His vision blurred. The love of his life leaned over him, whisps of hair framing her face where it had fallen out of her bun. There were tears in her sapphire eyes.

Then, blessed, quiet blackness.

 

.oOo.

 

Helen sat at her desk, staring at her holographic display. Nothing. All this knowledge, everything she could access in the Praxian databases that she had hacked during her disappearance, and nothing. Nothing about vampiric medicine or about electrical _anything_. All other abnormals with electrical abilities were not a match or otherwise completely incompatible situations. She couldn’t find anything that described what was happening to Nikola.

He was stable, but unconscious. Stable enough that Helen felt able to leave the infirmary to do some research. She raked her hand through her hair, before letting it fall around her shoulders. If Will hadn't come in with a tranquilizer when he did, could she have gotten through to Nikola? He was sounding stronger, after she jabbed him with the Epi. The adrenaline seemed to give him some more strength, but...

Nothing in her personal database, nothing in the Praxian records… where else could she look? So far as she knew, the vampires were wiped out and all their records had been destroyed; in both Bhalasaam and the tomb of Afina. Any other location, surely her father would have known about and included in his journal.

Helen stood, barely catching the loose papers before the movement sent them floating to the floor, and crossed the room to her bookshelves. Her father’s journal was among her most precious possessions, placed behind glass on one of the many bookshelves that lined Helen’s office. She slid the glass aside, taking the book from its holder, where it was propped up for display. Leafing through the thin pages, she walked back towards her chair without really looking where she was going.

Surely, with all the notes her father had done on vampires… Even Helen’s old notes from Oxford on the properties of vampire blood might help. Or they would, if she still had copies.

She read through, her gaze sliding over the familiar handwriting. She knew each page intimately, for she had read through the tome many, many times. For the many years where she had thought her father to be dead and gone forever, she found comfort in his words. When she missed him desperately while he’d lived in Praxis, she’d open the book to any page, and soak up his knowledge and wisdom.

Praxis was gone, and for all Helen knew, her father might be gone too. However, nothing was certain – especially where Gregory Magnus was concerned.

Page after page of elegant, looping handwriting and Helen’s confidence began to ebb. Gregory’s journal was extensive, but his involvement with The Five had been minimal. Vampire culture was largely an unknown, even to him.

Helen flipped another page. And another.

It really was a trove of knowledge, a treasure box of untold depths. Many of the images and notes here were things she’d barely scratched the surface of – codes where she lacked the appropriate cipher. She could probably spend the rest of her very long life to these pages, and never be bored. Maybe one day, she could even write her own…

 _Maybe writing my_ _memoirs wouldn’t be such a bad idea_ , Helen mused, while scanning a page of block writing about Da Vinci’s crystal theory. She was no slouch when it came to her fields of study. Apparently, though, she was lacking where it came to irritating egotistical vampires.

If only she could get Nikola to explain what was happening. When did it begin? How? And for that matter, how did he get his abilities back? So far as she could tell, they’d been locked in his DNA when the de-vamper had been turned against him. Even after his vampirism was restored, he seemed to remain only magnetic.

Why did it take until he had no other option for that switch to flip? Was it some kind of self-defence mechanism? And if he could use those abilities all along, why hide it? Was Nikola up to something, and was holding back some kind of ace? Sometimes you simply needed to be telepathic to understand what was going on in that head of his.

 _Telepathic_.

Helen shot up out of her chair, completely upending the papers scattered across her desk. She didn’t even try to stop them this time. Helen was almost out her office door by the time they landed on the floor.

Helen wasn’t telepathic, of course, but she knew someone who was.

She strode down the hallway, pulling out her phone. She thumbed in a text to Henry and headed back to the infirmary. She felt filled with hope once again – it might be a long shot, but it could work.

It had to work. Nikola needed it to work, and so did Helen.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt a surge, deep from in his chest. It bubbled from that place deep within, opening his cells like floodgates, the white-hot power/pain/rush sweeping through him, burbling under his surface, burning with excruciating grace. No. Oh no. Not again.   
> There was a tiny sound, almost obscured entirely by the commotion in the room. There was another pinch, this time in his side, followed by a numb, drowsy sensation. Nikola at once stuttered, and slumped over. His vision blurred. The love of his life leaned over him, whisps of hair framing her face where it had fallen out of her bun. There were tears in her sapphire eyes.   
> Then, blessed, quiet blackness.

  


“You know, I was expecting something more insane.”

Will raised an eyebrow.

Henry shrugged. “Well, you know. By Sanctuary standards, this is pretty... well, it's kinda crazy, but...”

Will took a moment to adjust his scuba gear, surveying Henry. The HAP shifted his weight ( _uncertainty, restlessness, holding something in,_ ) his feet pointing toward the water ( _he wants_ _to go in too_ _._ ) Will grimaced. 

“You know we need someone to run the system,” Will began, preparing for all the arguments that Henry would make. As it turned out, however, he didn't need to. 

“Yeah, I know. I just--”

“Can't sit still, yeah, I know.” 

Henry grinned. “ I was gonna say 'want to see the mermaids' but, that too.”

Will's mouth twisted into a  his trademark  half- grimace,  half- smile. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but if he were being honest, it unnerved him every time. He checked his gear one more time, and flopped his flippered feet over to the edge of the water.  The lilies and the reeds were thick near the edges, but underneath was a vast wealth of  open space. 

The “backyard” of the Sanctorium was a wide cave – the very cave that Will had seen the very first time he found the Sanctorium, where Magnus came to meet him. The front of the Sanctorium faced toward the Gate, and the transit point, leaving an enormous space behind that looked as though it were grassy meadow. Looks were deceiving, though, as it was actually a wide pool, its surface covered with aquatic plants, a twisting path winding through as a bridge. The pool was the collective home for many Abnormals, all of which were fully aquatic or amphibian. Abnormals like Sally, for instance. 

It was Will's mission to go find her, and ask her if she would look into Tesla's mind, to see  Magnus could find out what was going on; to see  if he could be saved. 

Will looked up at Henry. “See ya on the flip side,” he said, pulling his mask over his face. Henry gave him a thumbs up and went to a large piece of equipment that Will really didn't understand (but was glad Henry did. ) Will  sat on the edge, his back toward the water, and tipped  himself in with a splash.

The reeds were luminous in the beams of light shining in through the plants.  Carefully, and slowly, Will wended his way through the ropes of green.  The light was yellow in the deep green of the surface, slowly giving way to a deep, deep blue.  The roots grew smaller, and thinner, and soon, he was free of them, surveying the wide deep expanse of the water. 

Will had long since surmised that this watery space was the reason that the Praxians had never tried to settle  in this part of Hollow Earth . The further down Will dove, the more evidence he saw of history, of conflict, of war. It had since found new meaning  when Magnus moved in , but what Will saw  down here  was once quite different. Even in the dark, Will could make out the scorch marks on the rock face, the enormous pits where  _something_ had impacted, blowing out huge sections of the rock. No; once, there was no water here. Once there were people. 

Now that he was past the reeds, he could see the lights down at the bottom of the nearest shelf.  He could barely make out the edges of the ruins, deep at the bottom of the pool. An old settlement, of elegant design, reminiscent of the Praxian architecture. A predecessor, Will thought.  Some very old settlement from the distant Praxian past,  or some kind of backwater country that fell victim to war. 

He drifted down, kicking his flippers behind him, keeping alert and awake in the gloom. He hadn't seen any Abnormals yet, but that wasn't uncommon. Most of them would be dozing in the muddy bottoms, or hiding in the crevices. Usually, not many were at this high depth, anyway. The deeper he went, the likelihood increased.

Some lived in the ruins themselves, sweeping through the old buildings that were preserved by the water. Others seemed disinclined, and stayed far away from the place. And those who stayed, like Sally, had brought their own touches to their new home. Lights glittered down in the ruins, more visible now that he was closer. They were a strange, bio-luminescent glow, dotting the streets like streetlamps.

Will continued to kick, swimming all the way to the shelf. He was in awe of the ruins, especially up close. They were so unlike ruins from the surface – no loops of vines on old temples, no trees growing up in the middle of decrepit classrooms, no vandals daring each other to go through haunted places. This was quiet, and eerie, the only vegetation a thin coating of algae, clinging to the buildings.

Something silvery flitted by, a flash of something in Will's peripherals. He wasn't sure of his depth, but the water had a new chill, clearly he was getting into new territory. Whatever it was that swam past, though, Will wasn't concerned. Most of the Abnormals in the depths knew who Will was (because they knew who Magnus was,) and wouldn't harm him.

It took another ten minutes to reach the ruins proper, where the creatures resided. The actual streets of the ruins went ignored by the traffic of schools of ancient fish and aquatic creatures. Instead, the arcs of currents were roads, the eddies were the roundabouts, demarcated by nothing more than the gentle pull of the water. It looked like some kind of dance, to music that Will couldn't quite hear, but it strained the edges of his acute senses. Round eyes hovered in the dark windows of old houses, only to wink away when the creatures bolted. A large creature with a turtle-like shell and long, gangly limbs moved past Will, its flippers nearly knocking him in the face as it swept by.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. The kappa was always like that.

It didn't take long of a wait for Sally to swim up, in a hypnotic undulating motion that stirred up the water around. Her seaweed hair drifted about her head, and she smiled, looking peaceful and beautiful, in an aqueous sort-of way. Will tread water as best he could before waiting for Sally to ask.

In his mind, an image appeared -- Magnus, a bead of blood dripping from her nose as she tried to wipe it away before anyone noticed. But Will had noticed. He felt his insides clench in terror, that he would lose her to radiation poison -- with a sense of questioning teasing at the edges.

Will shook his head. No, she wasn't hurt or sick. He smiled, hoping Sally would understand that she didn't need to worry.

She seemed to, as he was filled with a profound sense of relief, though he knew somehow that it wasn't coming from him.

This was how Sally communicated. In images, often from one's own memory, and feelings, sometimes even words that were received telepathically. Will, of course, had a much harder time chatting underwater, given that he was just a normal guy. He had no real way of directly asking questions, other than thinking about it and hoping she'd understand.

He tried to think about Magnus, crouched over Tesla's prone body, desperately trying to save him. Will wasn't convinced that it wasn't Tesla's doing somehow, since it was always Tesla's doing somehow, but he begrudgingly couldn't deny how much the man meant to Magnus. Even though the man was trouble.

There was a questing sensation, like a caress across his face, and a feeling of encouragement and peace. Will felt chastened, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He hadn't meant for Sally to pick up on his reservations... if it had swayed her decision to help, Magnus would probably never forgive him.

Sally's face didn't change, (it never did) but he felt like he was somehow understood. He knew she wanted to know if she could help.

Will shrugged bodily, and pointed upward to the surface. With any luck, Henry's rig of wires and screens would amplify Sally's telepathy to reach Tesla in the infirmary.

Sally nodded slowly, her hair moving slowly around her in a sweeping cloud. Will nodded in return. They had a go.

  
  
.oOo.  
  


  
Henry stood by the machine. It seemed like he's done nothing but sit around and wait since he came down here. Which maybe wasn't fair, but still. Well, at least he could wait fiddling with something that was more than just security feeds this time.

It was the same rig they had used last time with Sally; dual screens stacked on top of each other on a metal pole, which was linked up to his laptop. Attached to the whole thing was also a dish. Since Sally couldn't leave the water, and it was too dangerous to bring Tesla to Sally, they'd re-used the long-distance amplifier from the days of Duke and Jimmy's fire elemental.

Henry had re-jigged the whole thing to have receiving capabilities as well this time. The idea was that Sally would concentrate on the machine and it would transmit her brainwaves to the infirmary. Hopefully, she could read his mind or whatever it is that mermaids do, and then it could be recorded on its way back.

It was a long wait for Will to come back, and no surprise. The pool was super deep, or so he'd been told on the way down here. Will might have said how deep, but Henry was too busy tripping over the wires at the time, so he might not have been paying attention. In fact, it was a couple of hours while Henry twiddled his thumbs.

When a head popped up, displacing a couple of lily pads, Henry breathed a sigh of relief, which promptly turned into a peal of laughter. One of the lily pads was stuck hilariously to Will's head like a floppy green hat with a big white flower on the top. Will looked completely nonplussed, which made Henry laugh even harder.

Sally came up soon after, drifting gracefully in the lilies. She skimmed just under the surface, her fins cutting the surface into white streaks. The water was a very steep drop-off, so she wasn't stuck trying to flop onto a shallow bottom. Her hair was tangled into the lilies.

"Hi Sally," Henry said. It had been a very long time since he'd seen her, and to be honest, he kinda missed her. She was emblematic of the wonder of the Sanctuary. There were always lots of rare and dangerous creatures, but Sally was peaceful. She was a constant presence throughout his life, despite never really speaking to her.

Once or twice he would; the first time when he was just a kid. Henry remembered working up the courage to peek out from behind the archway leading to the main lab. He must have been barely a teen at the time, with a brain full of hormones and video games. And there was a beautiful woman (woman-ish. Or fish, he mused) floating about in a tank. She was ethereal,  
but still somehow scary. He had often seen the Doc walk up to the tank and talk to it, somehow. She'd press her hand against the glass and somehow just know what the mermaid was telling her.

Curiosity had won, and he edged up to the glass, his dirty sneakers and skinned knees poking out under his soccer shorts reflecting in the dark of the glass. He walked up, and pressed his hand on the glass. She swam up with a strange look on her face, he remembered. He could only guess that she was as curious about him as he was about her. She reached out, and touched the glass where his hand was. Henry remembered the warm, gentle, caring sensation that somehow went through all of him, like a warm hug. He stared in wide-eyed awe, wondering at the way it looked like he was right there beside her, his face reflected in the glass.

The second time was during his change. He was terrified, his body reacting to some kind of DNA, long asleep. He had just tackled a weird snake creature out a two-story window and come out with barely a scratch. Magnus wouldn't understand - she'd accepted what Henry was long before he ever did. The Big Guy had always been a little different, and Henry wasn't ready to accept that he was, too. Not yet. He went to Sally for comfort that he was too afraid to seek anywhere else. She looked at him sadly, understanding all the things he just couldn't put into words.

He was so glad to see that the Doc had gotten Sally safely out of the old Sanctuary and to this place. In a weird kind of way, she was family too.

Speaking of family, Henry thought, they needed to get started. He looked up to see Will standing off to the side, his flippers tucked under his arms. Henry gave a resolute nod.

"Alright man, let's see if this works."  
  


  
.oOo.

  


Helen stood anxiously in the infirmary. When the contraption beeped, she let out the breath she'd been holding. She grabbed her phone, and picked it up after the first ring.

"Okay Doc, I think we're good to go. This should amplify Sally's telepathic powers and hopefully she'll be able to get into Tesla's brain. Stand by," Henry said, his voice tinny over the phone.

"Alright," she replied, her fingers hovering over the controls. It was nice to have real buttons, (real, actual, clicky buttons,) again. The holo display that the Praxians used was undoubtedly very effective, but there was something that was just much more tactile and grounding about having actual buttons to press. There was confirmation, control. Digging out this old machine was very satisfying. Especially since she was about to get answers, finally.

It hummed and whirred as it started up. Since the last time it was used, Henry had to remote-hack Duke's cybernet implants, they had to make a system of their own this time. Nikola's head was dotted with little interfaces, the wires trailing down his head and spidering across the hospital bed. While unconscious, he seemed to be much more quiet - the electricity jumping out of his body was much lesser and intermittent. He'd have to remain unconscious, Helen guessed, or he'd blow out the system and they'd be back at square one. Hopefully, Sally wouldn't find that to be a problem.

Nikola was oddly beautiful at rest. The years of darkness were peeled away and she could see hints of the man she knew that lay behind the years. Somewhere, beneath the scheming and the ambition, the bloodlust and the hunger, was a man of infinite complexity. His face showed an impossibly innocent trust in a world that would always have something change, something new. Something for him to discover.

Helen adjusted the monitor, watching an image of a sine wave begin to oscillate. Sally's brain waves, she thought to herself. She's begun trying to make contact.

  


.oOo.

  


A sweet zing, a gentle touch releasing a pale expanse of smooth skin, undulating like rolling hills through the country side, with roads of veins and nerves.

Confusion? There is a darkness here, shrouding, concealing. She pushed through the shadowy veil, ever gently, ever softly. The mind is a bright light, ideas flitting about like fish, silver scales flashing in the pale sunlight.

Oh, it knows _._ _Hello, dear friend, I am here. I am listening._

Terror! Recoil! The darkness shrinks around the glittering mind, at once a stormy tempestuous sea. Winds and rain, howling, howling, hurling away in the unbridled, supernatural strength. A taste, like something she's never known. It sticks in the mouth, teaching her words like 'chalk' and 'dry'.

_It's ash,_ it says.

She searches, shifting over the implacable weight piece by piece, in the deepest tenderness. She pulls aside the veils, slowly. It's like swimming through mud, cloying, sticky, but dissipating quickly into the clear clean water. Something within it shudders, feeling naked.

Encouragement; peace. _I will not harm you. The Nāmaka bade me. Where you see me, you see her._

_Her?_

_Yes, her._ Cheeks as pink as coral, eyes which shine like mother-of-pearl, a sweet smile and a hand extended. The healer, the maker. The alchemist.

_Helen..._

_Yes, it was she._

The sun came out, and the darkness begins to lift. Within, there is an onslaught of light and sound. The genius mind, never at rest, unfurls like a fin shifting, an octopus reaching. Always solving, never stopping. Questions in questions! Machinations beyond her understanding, plans for greatness and ambition for power. The current shifts and it is bright!

_Current?_ it asked. _Electrical current?_

She thinks of eels with the ability to paralyze, or fish with Pharaoh-chins sensing their way. And yes, something like that here. The sensation is strange to her, painful and bright, faster than a porpoise darts. She seeks to understand, and suddenly does. She senses memories of strange glass spheres that encompass sunlight, of flat green boards with little copper lines in a shape so odd! She remembered many of these things from the first place, but she'd not given them much thought, for they affected her little.

Current, she thought, an inexorable pull and flow. _Don't fight it, let it flow. The natural flow will heal you. Why do you fight it? What have you to fear - you; a shark of the land, full of teeth and speed and death? Why fear?_

Fear and pain lancing through muscles, clenching, holding in all the air, holding it together. And something else, something hidden carefully under layers of denial and self-deceit. Was it remorse?

But she set that aside. She sensed a reason, an instinct of protection. Both of the self, and of others. Of the Nāmaka, she guessed. The instinct was defending itself, and so strong was the instinct, the defense was too much, until it overcame even itself. It warred with itself to protect itself, and the more it warred, the stronger the flow. It was at the centre of a whirlpool driven by the instinct of self-preservation.

_What are you,_ it asked her, _how did you get here?_

_I must go._

_Wait!_

_I must tell her._

_But I don't understand!_

_T_ _he Nāmaka,_ _dear friend_ _. She waits for you still, to live again, for her love is as vast and as deep as the ocean itself._ Stillness, peace. It will heal.

She left the way she came, and it reached for her. Yet; love, acceptance. It slowly let her go. She knew, then. It could be saved. But first, she had to speak with the healer herself, and tell her what she discovered.

  


.oOo.

  


"Bloody hell," Helen mumbled, as the connection between herself and Sally faded. She finally understood.

Nikola was somehow caught in his own abilities - his fight or flight instinct turned up to ten, and every perceived threat was met with deadly response. And the more afraid he got, the more it spiralled out of control. Perhaps his new power overstimulated his amygdala?

"Amazing," she muttered, as she watched the skin heal over. Nikola's electricity had somehow become so powerful that not even his vampiric healing could keep up! He was hovering on the transformation because it was the only thing keeping him alive!

Perhaps she could do something after all. She grabbed her phone.

"What's up, Doc?" came the reply.

"I need you to ask Sally if she could do one more thing for us. Could you ask if she could keep Nikola's brain from panicking while I try something."

"Yeah, sure thing." She could hear his muffled voice as he spoke, probably holding his hand over the receiver while he did. There was another voice in reply (Will's,) and a few blank moments where surely Sally was communicating with the boys. Hope swelled in her heart.

"Hey, yeah, she says she'll do it," Henry said finally.

She was already moving to grab the necessary components. "Good. Stand by, then, while I prep."

"Prep? Like, surgery?" she could practically hear the blood draining from his face. Despite being one of the most powerful Abnormals Helen had ever had the honour of knowing, he still wasn't great with blood.

"That shouldn't be necessary. Have her send her signal right into the limbic system, targeting any fight-or-flight trigger as soon as she possibly can."

"... that doesn't sound good. Alright, will-do."

She hung up, dropping her phone on the nearest surface; coincidentally on top of a pile of upended instruments. When she finished with all of this, she was going to make Nikola clean up all this mess himself. It would be character-building. Because there he would be, swanning about, shooting her lab full of holes. The man was intolerable.

At any rate, before she could badger him into cleaning, she had to get him back on his feet. She took a moment to check the interfaces, to be sure they hadn't been shorted out by an errant burst of electricity. But between the tranquilizer he'd been shot with, and Sally's renewed efforts, he had calmed into some state that resembled normalcy. His body was no longer jumping back and forth between his vampiric state and his human one.

All she needed to do, she thought, was suppress the overactive limbic system, for long enough that his cortisol levels could balance again. After that, he'll need some way to train his reactions to stressors, or perhaps Helen could concoct something. At any rate, Helen realized, the shot of epi had been both a blessing and a curse. It prevented his heart from stopping, but it has also juiced up his stress hormones, potentially making the problem even worse.

And when it did get worse... he was scrambling away from her. He thought he was going to hurt her.

And that was the source of all of this, she realized. He was afraid he was going to hurt someone without meaning to, nothing more. And nothing less.

"Oh Nikola," she whispered, reaching out to push the sweaty hair off his forehead. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Ever since the chelonioidea arborescens, she'd noticed that he'd been quiet about his renewed abilities. If all this was true, then he hadn't been hiding his powers. It truly had come back that evening in the bay. It was triggered somehow by an enormous stress, maybe even a trauma. Was this just the aftereffects? The excess power bleeding off, hormonally speaking? Or had all that power overwhelmed his amygdala and set it up in some kind of feedback loop? The electrical reaction was much self-defense from stress, as it is the cause of the stress.

The answer might be as simple as a prescribed sedative to help him reset his body.

Very anti-climactic, but Helen was quite happy for it to be so. Simplicity is elegance.

It didn't take long for her to find an appropriate sedative, and to put together something to help dispel the effects of the tranquilizer. It would already be on its way out of his system, probably, but she didn't want to wait. She had to know.

She tapped the side of the loaded syringe, and injected it into Nikola's forearm. Hopefully, Sally could help keep his electrical reactions at bay for long enough that Helen could explain her plan.

  


.oOo.

  


Abby stood by the computer, the tang of toner from the printer hanging in the air as yet another file transferred in her rather impressive cache onto an external drive. She glanced around the room, which was dimming quickly. The clear glass walls partitioning this office from the rest of the floor reflected the last couples beams of light from the setting sun. After hours, the place always seemed a little spooky; even more so when she was really doing something she wasn't supposed to. Oblivious, the computer hummed happily as yet another file was deposited into the growing list. Abby checked her watch. _Come on,_ _Computer_ _. Any time now. This is totally not the time to be slow_ , she thought. The computer continued on its merry way. One more file. Only twenty-thousand-billion more to go.

Anxiously, Abby glanced around again, her heart hammering in her chest. It would mean some pretty serious crap if she got caught. She really didn't have access to the really secret stuff, the kind of stuff that got you shot if you looked at without the authorization, but she did have some clearance. Depending on how they spun it, she could be looking at an arrest for this, at the very least...

But still, this whole thing was just wrong, and Abby had no intentions of letting anyone get away with this.

A distant thud of a closed door echoed through the hall, buffeted by the closed glass door in the office. Someone was coming.

"Crap!" Abby hissed, grabbing her drive and jamming her finger onto the cancel button. "Stop! Stop that!" She was almost through, but - could she risk it? The computer beeped obnoxiously, as if irritated that it had been interrupted. A warning that the drive had been disconnected popped up, chiding her for disconnecting during a transfer because it could corrupt the information. Making a face, Abby bashed the power button. Abby slid the drive into a her purse, satchel, pausing for only a moment to shuffle around the contents of the bag. Of course, this would be the moment that things got stuck. Because that's just how her life was! Naturally.

Finally, it were more or less in the purse, and Abby hoisted it over her shoulder, putting her best game face on. A man with a cleaning cart came around the corner in the hallway toward the door to the cubicles. He was of Asian decent, medium height, with close-cropped hair with tattoos peaking out at the wrists of his uniform. Abby ducked behind the desk, praying that she hadn't been seen.

She peeked around the leg, distantly aware that she had planted her knee into the dustiest carpet known to mankind, watching the bottoms of the cleaner's pants brush over top of his shiny black shoes. She held her breath, and ducked back behind the desk again. She was almost certain that her heart was going to explode. And that she would hyperventilate and pass out right where she was hiding, listening to the gentle swish of a broom, sweeping over the tile floor. Abby felt her breath catch. Was it getting louder? Was he going to come into the little office, and find her hiding _underneath the general manager's desk?_

It felt like it took forever, but the cleaner moved off toward the staircase, sweeping without much enthusiasm. The dull _swshh, swshh_ made an ironic counterpoint to the blood rushing in her ears, and the staccato beating of her frantic heart. The dull thud was her only warning that the cleaner had disappeared, off to the staircase. She let out the breath she had forgotten she was holding.

Without a word, Abby rose to a crouch, and slipped out the door and thanked whatever gods might be listening that she wore somewhat sensible flats today, because those were quiet, unlike her fancy boots. She walked, keeping as natural a pace as she could, towards the far stair, to the promising freedom of outdoors. She fought to keep the grimace out of her face. Abby was probably panicking about nothing. People stayed late all the time. That cleaning man probably had no idea who the General Manager actually was. It would be fine.

It was going to be fine.

Absolutely uneventful.

Abby stepped reached the end of the hall, and she pressed her hip into the long bar to open the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * NOTES *
> 
> Hi! I hope you guys enjoyed! Also, have some fun facts: 
> 
> Elephant nose fish are a real animal. They're small and adorable and have long chins that look like elephant trunks, and within is an organ that uses electrical pulses to sense their way around! They "see" with their little trunk-chins, and they're so dorky and cute.
> 
> Nāmaka is a Hawai'ian sea goddess - known for doing battle with Pele and actually winning. I liked the idea that Sally would equate Helen with a goddess, and I like to think that the mythical creatures of the sea have some reality to Sally. Sally communicates mostly in metaphor, so despite knowing who Helen is, and what her name is, she communicates the impression of greatness in a way she understands it. Plus Hawai'i is just plain cool.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take long for her to find an appropriate sedative, and to put together something to help dispel the effects of the tranquilizer. It would already be on its way out of his system, probably, but she didn't want to wait. She had to know.
> 
> She tapped the side of the loaded syringe, and injected it into Nikola's forearm. Hopefully, Sally could help keep his electrical reactions at bay for long enough that Helen could explain her plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the huge delay, life got super busy! I've had most of this chapter done for ages, but I got so stuck in some of the minutae. So, I decided to just post it so that I can move on. My apologies that this chapter is not up to the standards of the others, but I'm hoping that I can just move forward from here. I have such big plans and got stuck with the little stuff! I'm hoping I can carry on from here!

Nikola came to in a groggy daze, feeling simultaneously as though he'd been hit by a truck and like he'd been asleep for days. Bright light shone in through curtained windows, right into his eyes. He squinted as he promptly cursed the light for its mere existence. And of course, as the inventor of electricity, he literally had _no one to blame but himself_ because it wasn't sunlight streaming through the window, but artificial Hollow Earth fake-sunlight. He rolled over in bed and planted his face firmly into his pillow. Obviously, everyone hated him and was determined to make him as miserable as possible.

The pillow was soft, and fluffed up. He never wanted to get up, ever again. He hadn't felt this comfortable since his powers had gone out of control, which was surely a lifetime ago.

Nikola suddenly realized that he was in his own bedroom in the Sanctorium. And he wasn't sparking electricity everywhere like a toaster that's been dropped in a bathtub. There was a complete tiredness that sank deeply in his bones which made any intention of moving a far-off dream. He felt distantly aware that something was off about this, but he simply couldn't move himself to care overmuch.

Instead, he dozed, enjoying the feeling of slumber, drifting in and out of sleep. The next time he opened his eyes, he heard a quiet shuffling sound.

"Mmnngh," he mumbled, rolling over again. Helen's minions had something against sleep.

"Hey, look; it's alive," came a voice in reply. _Oh_ , Nikola thought; _Henry_.

"Mmnphh."

He heard Henry snicker. "Yeah, well, that's what a tranquilizer does to a guy. You know, I'm pretty sure you've spent more time unconscious in the last two weeks than you have since I met you."

Nikola grumbled, and reached for another pillow. He flopped it on top of his head.

"Okay, quit acting like a teenager, it's time to get up," Henry chided, grabbing the pillow that Nikola had tried to smother himself with. Nikola felt the pillow connect again with the back of his head in a _flummph_ as Henry hit him with it.

"Why're you hitting me? M'a vampire. Could rip you 'part. 'Nd take your pillow."

"You've been tranq'd, I don't care. What are you gonna do? Flop around at me?"

"Your c'mpassion 'nd caring just uh'stounds me."

 _Flumph._ He felt the pillow connect with the back of his head again.

"Hey—"

_Flumph!_

"Stop that--"

_FLUMPH!_

"Alright, alright! Good god!"

Nikola heaved himself over, the grogginess just beginning to lift. He must have been hit with quite the tranq if it took even his system this long to work through. He vaguely remembered being shot in the thigh, by Will. He remembered seeing Helen's face hovering over him before he passed out. He remembered that indescribable feeling of there being some other kind of... presence, in his mind. He looked over at Henry, steadily regaining his faculty. He could see the traces of worry in his face, which looked thin with exhaustion. In fact, he looked like he needed the sleep more than Nikola did; yet, that keen sense of intelligence shone through Henry's eyes no matter how sunken they looked.

Nikola paused. This whole caring-thing was harder than people made it look.

"How long was I out?" he asked, not quite able to bring himself to ask what he really wanted to ask.

"About a day or so. Also, for the record, the doc wanted you to know that she'll personally shoot you if you ever do that to her again. Her words, not mine."

Nikola didn't doubt it.

Henry went on to explain what had happened - something about a psychic mermaid and a hunk of an old transmitter that they used to practically hack Nikola's brain.

Well, at least it was creative, in a MacGyver sort of way.

Nikola worked on shifting his shoulder to lever himself up. Once he had it and his hand roughly underneath him, he heaved himself into some semblance of a seated position.

"It wouldn't be the first time she shot me, or had me shot, and surely it wouldn't be the last."

"This is true," Henry replied, looking entirely too smug about it.

Helen chose that moment to walk in to the room, her deep blue eyes shining with amusement. Henry moved a little out of the way when she walked up to the edge of Nikola's bed.

"How's our patient?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

"Crotchety," Henry quipped, before Nikola could respond.

"I am not."

"Cantankerous."

"Well that's a big word for you."

Henry grinned. "Aaand he's fine."

Nikola rolled his eyes. "I still feel like I've been tossed off _le Tour Eiffel_ , but I'm getting over it."

Helen sat on the edge of his bed, the covers ruffling under her weight.

"You'll be still feeling the effects of the tranquilizer, I'm afraid. It was quite a dose, but I've given you something to help work through it.

Nikola looked up at Helen, studying her expression. The twinkle had faded, and was replaced with concern. Something twisted in him. What did she have to be concerned about? Was it him?

"... are you going to make me ask?" he bit out.

She shook her head. "It seems that you fell victim to yourself again. Something about your powers was stimulating your fight-or-flight response. Every time you perceived a threat, it seems your body responded with electricity." She went into her plan to introduce a suppressant, and to wean him off as he became re-adjusted. Meanwhile, his mind raced at a mile-a-minute. It made sense, really. It was a simple problem, with a simple solution, but that didn't get Nikola any further ahead in his real question: what brought his powers back in the first place? And why did they get so out of control? Did his De-Vamper somehow lock his vampirism into his stress response? And if that's what it was, why couldn't he have fixed it without the extra shot of Source Blood?

Nikola moved to stand, but found himself stopped by Helen's elegant hand pressed into his chest.

"You're sure you're alright?" she asked, her face glowing with what he dared to hope was affection.

"Of course I am," he replied with his best and toothiest smile. "I'm a vam-"

"A vampire, yes. I know," she said, shaking her head and moving to stand. "Henry, I've got a council meeting to run to, could you keep me informed?"

Nikola had forgotten that Henry was still there. He felt oddly sheepish, even a tiny bit embarrassed. Henry didn't seem to notice (or mind.) "Sure thing, Doc."

Helen then gave Nikola one last look, and swept out of the room. Nikola couldn't help but appreciate the view as she did so. He thought he saw Henry rolling his eyes in his peripherals, but he couldn't be bothered to care overmuch. It was a view well worth appreciating. Things had been so eventful since she'd reappeared in his life he'd barely had the time to really oogle. Or flirt. He'd have to make up for lost time as soon as he was mobile and less-tranquilized. He looked up at Henry. "You look zombified," he said, feeling a grin pull at the edges of his mouth.

Henry sighed, crossing his arms. He suddenly had a very far-away look.

"I wanted you to know that I'm not mad. That you shocked me."

Nikola scoffed, feeling at once both embarrassed and angry. "Because I've always been so careful of your fragile ego."

Henry shook his head, with an odd look on his face. It was somewhere between understanding and a comic pout. "Well, when you get your butt out of bed, go say hi to Erika. She's been worried about you."

 

.oOo.  
  
  
Helen looked up to the table. It was an oddly shaped table; with two equilateral straight sides and one long curved edge, where the members of the Council sat across. Helen sat in the centre of the curve, with the members in various seats along the long side of the table.

Helen stood after she finished reading Abby's latest communique. At least, "read" insofar as she could, given that her Praxian was still a bit provincial. How on Earth Abby managed to intercept a message in Praxian to SCIU headquarters was as impressive as it was troubling. It seemed that there was something else going on, and her life's work was at risk.

Again.

“From the gist of it, the email Abby found seemed like an early dialogue between two people, one above-ground and one below,” she said aloud to the table. “We don't know who these people are, or what their agenda might be. All we know is that there's communication beyond the purview of the Sanctorium, and the Council.”

Heh Talla'Xt glanced across the table, his eyes shining oddly in the light. His eyes were pearls, milky white and luminescent. His face was full of gnarled ridges and knobbed with scales. His mouth was thin, curling downward at the edges in something akin to displeasure. When he spoke, he sounded more like the fierce North wind than a creature. “As it be, it be, Maaahgnusss. Not all who live, live in well-tidings.”

“They live, yet not for the 'well-tidings' of others,” same a nasally voice from the other side of the table. Helen resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Whenever Heh Talla'Xt and Grecia started, Helen knew she was in for a long session.

“Long-Neck does not care for others,” Heh Talla'Xt hissed in a sibilant string of consonants. The muscles in Grecia's long, long throat shifted to an angry red – a sure sign of emotion in the _phocidae ignatia_.

“What are we doing about it?” asked another, in a small but fierce voice. Helen glanced down the table to the only other human at the table. Pira was young, barely an adult really, representing the fungi farmers out in the far reaches of Hollow Earth.

“All of you, please contact your people. Surely someone will have a notion as to which insurgents might still be itching for a fight and stirring up trouble again. We'll reconvene when I have more information for you.”

It didn't take long for the Council to file out (some walking, others slithering, and Heh Talla'Xt almost _oozed_ out of the room) leaving Helen alone with her notes. Not enough data, but still, something didn't feel quite right. Too many questions, she thought, and not enough information!

“Dr. Magnus?” came a small voice. Helen looked up to find Pira lingering in the angular doorway, half-in, half-out, shoulders slumped. The filtered shadow made the burn scar on her face look red and angry, though it was long-since healed. She was shrouded in her clothing, layers and layers of jackets and outerwear that always reminded Helen of her experiences in Mexico. Pira's short hair was mussed, and pulled unceremoniously from her face with a thick hairband with odd geometric designs.

“What can I do for you?” Helen asked.

Pira sidled forward a little.

“Uh, well. I just – it's nothing. Nevermind.”

Helen felt herself frown. “Are you certain?”

Pira gave an unconvincing smile. “Sorry,” she murmered, before hurrying away.

Helen shook her head at Pira's retreating figure. No, it didn't feel right at all.

 

.oOo.

 

Nikola swanned down the hallway toward the Wolf Family residence. He came up to the door with a sense of impending doom. He stood outside the door, studying the detail. It was a relatively plain door, lit buttercup yellow in the light, which was dappled through strange, gold foliage spread across the side of the hall. The hall itself was more like a balcony, open on one side where the strange plants were, wrapping along the railing and creeping up the supports.

He shook his head. He was stalling. It's just Erika, for fuck's sake.

Just a HAP... that is pregnant... and emotional. And a HAP.

He pushed open the door, trying for devil-may-care.

Erika was on their somehow very normal-looking couch, her legs up along the footrest, a book held loosely in her hands. Her bone-straight hair was twisted into a braid, which was wrapped loosely around her shoulder and fell down along her arm. She was very elegant, regal even. Nikola had no doubt he'd have made a play for her if she weren't already attached by the hip to The Puppy.

She looked up over the top of her book. “Ah, Nikola. Out and about, I see?”

Nikola graced her with his most generous smirk. “You doubted me?”

Her eyes flashed, and he immediately regretted everything he said and thought and everything he _might ever think ever again._ “It had nothing to do with doubt; I was worried sick! Henry told me what Dr. Magnus said -- is it true?”

Nikola's smirk had melted into a grimace.

Erika's sharp eyes disappeared over the top of her book. “I'll take that as a 'yes.' Good lord, Nikola, why didn't you say anything?” She put down her book, and heaved herself off of the couch. She wasn't really showing in girth, but the way she moved gave her away. She seemed stiff and sore. “Honestly. You're as bad as Henry.”

“You bite your tongue, young lady.”

“I'll bite _something_ if you ever pull any of that nonsense again.”

Nikola swallowed, feeling his Adam's apple bob uncomfortably. “It's not like I knew that I could still do all of the fun stuff!” He strode across the room, glancing about. It was probably too much to hope for to find a bottle of a fine vintage as old as he was in the home of a cretin with no taste and a pregnant woman, but it didn't stop him from looking.

She rolled her eyes. “I know you may not believe me when I say this, but there are people who care about you, Nikola. Lord knows why. And I for one would much rather have some warning before you start shooting bolts out of nowhere.”

Understanding dawned on Nikola when he watched her eyes flick away, her hand resting gently on her belly. She did care about Nikola, that much he never doubted. But she was afraid of him, too; afraid for her child. Nikola's unpredictability didn't couple well with children, in their parasitic foetal stage, or their screaming banshee stage. He knew he was notoriously selfish, and that his selfishness often had consequences on the people around him. Most often, it was simply the cost of innovation. But for Erika and Henry...

He heaved a put-upon sigh. He'd not been around children for a _very_ long time...

“Oh, alright, alright. I solemnly swear to not ignore random electrical pains again. Satisfied?”

The corners of Erika's mouth turned upwards, just a touch. The tiny furrows in her brow eased minutely. “For now,” she replied. “On one condition.”

“Oh hell. What might that be?”

Five hours later, Henry returned from his work in the lab to see his lovely girlfriend and a vampire sitting on his couch, the television screen flickering across their features. Erika looked enraptured. Tesla looked like he was expecting his brain to melt out of his ears any moment now. Henry had to laugh out loud – only Erika could strong-arm Nikola Tesla into watching a marathon of Coronation Street.

 

.oOo.

 

The whole situation reeked of trouble. This message she couldn't decode, the lingering feeling of political backstabbing, Pira's odd behaviour, the beginnings of a clue to a traitor in her midst... there were pieces missing to this puzzle, and she was having trouble putting what she had together.

And thinking of trouble, it had been four days since the incident in the lab and Nikola was back on his feet, as annoying as ever. Nikola strolled around the Sanctorium grounds, making a complete nuisance of himself whenever was most inconvenient for her. Somehow, he always managed to appear with a suggestive smirk when she was in desperate need for a fresh cuppa, or she had yet another particularly useless bout of research into the various Abnormals, or she was coming out of frustrating Council sessions. Helen had been many things through her lifetime, but being a quasi-politician was her least-favourite. By far, bar-none.

Nikola still fought with electrical impulses, but it seemed like he'd begun to learn how to control them. He was no longer holing himself up as if the very thought of company of any kind would instantly create a sudden new disaster. In fact, he'd taken to his new-found freedom with great gusto, constantly underfoot when Helen was _busy, goddammit._ The insufferable grin made it all the more annoying.

Sometimes she wondered why she ever bothered with him in the first place, but she knew, even if she didn't want to admit it. She was fond of him. More than fond, perhaps. He was... Nikola gave her hope.

Helen's legacy was as damning as it was great. She'd rearranged the world, really – with the best of intentions, but she knew her hands were stained. While Helen missed her dearest friends – James, John, and Nigel – she knew she didn't miss her past. There was so much pain and betrayal there... They had all tried to kill each other more than they made up, really, and the weight of it all sat uncomfortably on her shoulders whenever she thought about them and their exploits. They had such dreams, once. They set out to discover how the human body might react when pushed to the limits.

And they had certainly found out.

Nothing changed. Every time John reappeared, she went through the same cycle. The same feelings, the same expectation that he could be saved. And every time, he fell into the same pattern. Every time, she found herself with a knife to her throat.

James never threatened her, but he was always a threat to himself. Helen would see him spiral out of control, tormented by demons of mysteries and murders committed under his nose. And time and again, Helen would do her best to pull him out, but they both knew it was only temporary.

But Nikola... Nikola was unique. Nikola was capable of change. He was ever evolving, always morphing, becoming something new to not just adapt to the times, but to shape them. When Helen saw Nikola, she didn't see the old campus at Oxford, or the old moustache he once sported. She didn't even see the many times they had nearly killed each other. Nikola was no longer that person, much like Helen. She had come a long way from being the gentle, naive woman she was before the Source Blood. John could never see that she was a different person now, but Nikola did.

Nikola gave her hope that she wouldn't be locked into the same patterns for the rest of her life. Somehow, kissing him when he had awoken tasted of hope and freedom.

But back to this rather perplexing message.

She did her best to read the very provincial Praxian. It was full of odd turns of phrase and slang she was unfamiliar with, but a pattern was emerging. It may well have been something reminiscent of the Navajo Code Talkers from the War. What she took as provincial might be rife with subtext. She'd been speaking and writing in Praxian for many, many years (given that she'd been hiding in Hollow Earth for almost a hundred years) but it was of a more literary, formal kind. Helen did a lot of reading, but very little speaking.

She had an easier time reading the replies, which were quite to the point and direct.

Helen had just flipped another page when there was a crash as the door banged into the wall, and Helen's head snapped up. There was Will, standing in the doorway, his chest heaving, his shirt askew. His mouth hung open in what could only be despair.

"Will," she said, suddenly feeling her mouth go dry. "What's happened?"

"Magnus, she's gone."

Helen stood, her heart sinking.

" _They took Abby._ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen had just flipped another page when there was a crash as the door banged into the wall, and Helen's head snapped up. There was Will, standing in the doorway, his chest heaving, his shirt askew. His mouth hung open in what could only be despair. "Magnus, she's gone. They took Abby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay, hi guys! So, better than a year between posts, I hope! Honestly, I'm glad I got this one done, and I'm moving onto the next one! Also I promise, this is still a Helen/Nikola fic, but a) I don't want to rush it, b) I have so many ideas, and c) I have plaaaaaaaans for that. Such plans! I just hope I don't try to do too much at once! 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! Mysterious new character, too, who do you think he is? I'm looking forward to knowing what you think! Thanks again for all your support!

What? _How?_ She stood from her desk, the pages in her fingers sliding away until her desk was a mess of symbols and marks. The words evaporated from Helen's tongue like steam, hissing in the shock of a gasp.

Will was practically climbing right out of his skin. His short-sleeve button-up was only half tucked into the band of his trousers, the top button of his shirt undone and askew. This face was ashen, his hair wild, his eyes flashing with anger and panic.

Helen tried to find her voice. “Will, tell me everything.”

Will began pacing, the tension making his gait stiff and choppy. Helen could see his jaw working, yet no sound came out of his mouth. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing.

He looked up at her with a grimace. “She got a message to me right before they...”

Helen walked over to Will, gently taking his forearms into her hands, guiding him to the office couch. He moved without protest, seemingly unaware of what was going on around him. Helen sat next to him, her knees nestled next to his, hoping he could pull some small comfort from her presence.

“I have it. Here,” Will said, sounding hollow. He didn't say another word, just handed her a small jump drive. Helen gently pulled his fingers apart, tugging the drive from his reluctant fingers. Will simply stared off into space, looking paler by the moment. He had quite clearly gone into shock, but there wasn't much more than she could do for him now.

The jump drive itself was unassuming, one of many that the Sanctorium kept for sensitive data when moving between the Surface and the Sanctorium. Helen's brow lifted. Sensitive information that didn't go through Helen herself? Or get approved in any way? Not only was this not protocol, but it was dangerous and—

She took a deep breath in. Now was not the time for that. With a final look of what she hoped looked like confident resolution, Helen stood leaving Will on the couch. She moved to her terminal and slotted in the drive.

“Hey, hun! It's me. Well, of course it is. Duh. Who else would it be?” Abby's bubbly voice filled the room, laced with the heavy static of wind blowing into the receiver. There was a low murmur of a crowd in the background, along with the low rumble of cars whisking by. Helen's brow furrowed. The light, jovial tone was typical of Abby but not what she had expected. Still, she listened; the recording went on.

“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I've been making some progress on that lead you had, I have to lay low for a bit, they're really cracking down since giant turtle. My bosses are really peeved that _someone_ beat them to the punch. I'm sure you know this, but they suspect you. You should keep your head down too, for a little while. Pass that on to our mutual friends – The Brass still has a BOLO out for them. They're concentrating on London, of course, but still. Be very, very careful.”

There was a pause, footsteps clacking through the recording. Abby made a disgruntled sniff before continuing.

“Hmm. I seem to have picked up a tail. I'd better end this. Take care, babe, I lo--” An earsplitting _screech_ interrupted, something metallic and large. Suddenly, there were voices shouting and car doors slamming. “Oh no! I love you!! End recording, transfer to personal system and send to--”

It cut out.

Will looked like he'd send a ghost.

Helen stared, her stomach dropping in her belly. But _who?_ Who could have taken Abby? Was it SCIU trying to stop the information leak? Someone else? It certainly seemed to fit into SCIU's pattern – show up all bluster and wind in small, fast task force, grab whomever they needed to grab, toss them in the back and squeal the tires on their way out. They could disappear whomever or whatever was in their way.

Not for the first time, Helen wished she'd been a bit more firm about her living in the Sanctorium. But the information had been so crucial... Helen shook her head, No time for self-recriminations. She needed intel; she needed a plan.

“Mangus?”

Helen looked to Will again. Misery was clear on his face. But somehow, it gave Helen hope. Will had just enough trust left in him to come to her for this. She'd have mounted a rescue mission for that bare sliver of a chance to begin repairing her relationship with Will.

But more than that, Abby was a part of the family.

“We'll get her back, Will. First, we need to find out who took her.”

 

.oOo.

 

Henry was hacking into international databases as soon as he heard the news. Cursory searches showed that, yep, both he and Erika were now wanted in most of North America and the western part of Europe. He briefly considered erasing the BOLOs, but that wouldn't do much good. As it was, they were safe in Hollow Earth. If they weren't, Henry might have gone full Wolf at the threat to Erika and the baby.

Except there was still Abby to worry about. The interesting bit was the lack of BOLO for _her_. There was one for Will, a standing manhunt that had been active since before the Doc's 'death,' when Will had gone rogue. Files still listed the Doc as KIA, and Tesla as the SCIU equivalent of 'alive and dangerous.' And probably 'owes them a lot of money,' too.

“There was no official reason for Abby to be kidnapped, which leads me to believe it either wasn't SCIU, or was done on the sly without the Big Boys knowing,” he said, a holographic chat window hovering before him. The Doc's face filled the frame, her attention obviously taken by whatever else she was doing while listening to Henry's update. Magnus nodded absently. “Makes her harder to find, but no sweat. I'll start with out first suspect and jump down the rabbit hole.”

“Alright,” she replied, her fatigue evident in her face, but never her voice. “Call in updates as you can, Henry. I need as much info as possible, as quickly as possible.”

“You got it, Doc,” Henry replied, tabbing into a new file. He barely noticed when Dr. Magnus ended the call.

He was digging through SCIU's underwear drawers when the tang of ozone stung his nose. And of course, there was only one person who smelled like a thunder storm which was also wearing super expensive, fancy cologne.

“Well, well; making use of my little care package, I see?” Tesla asked, a tiny grin tugging at the side of his mouth. He swept up to the terminal, his mere presence giving the air a tinge of static. And it was true – SCIU had failed to change their access codes since Tesla leaked them (Rule 112 of Securing Your Top Secret Facility) so Henry could waltz in whenever he pleased.

“Yeah, convenient when you need to find some dirty SCIU laundry,” Henry said through a grin.

“Do tell.”

“Someone took Abby.”

“The blonde? She was hot, but no account for her taste, given she prefers Skippy the Psychologist,” Tesla replied with a casual wave. Henry shook his head.

“You know, for a guy well into his hundreds, you have the hormones of a teenager.”

Tesla sniffed dismissively. “Comme ci, comme ça.”

“Fine, be unhelpful,” Henry returned his attention to the monitors. “Go away, I'm hacking.”

The older man's eyes lit up with excitement. “Well, in memory of what might have been,” Tesla quickly elbowed his way on to the computers, ignoring Henry's protests.

“Dude!” Henry shouted, suddenly finding himself tipping over and well on his way to being on intimate terms with the floor. The upended chair landed in an ungainly crash and the two jockeyed for space at the terminal.

“Plus, Helen would probably shoot me if I didn't help, and _i_ _t's boring down here_ \--”

“It's like you're just not happy without a world to try and rule, and nowaitdon'ttouchthat”

“Oh hush, it'll be fine.”

“You are _seriously_ the most annoying man I've ever met!” Henry huffed, finally getting his shoulder in to twist Tesla out of the way. Tesla was largely undeterred – he moved to the next terminal and was at work. The irritation rose in Henry's voice. “I swear to god, dude! Just-- okay, fine. See if there's anything in the Great Britain branch.”

Tesla looked at Henry quizzically, eyes flicking overtop of the holographic screen across from him, the translucent image of shifting symbols overlaid over the vampire. “Why Great Britain?”

Henry closed his eyes, counting to ten. “Because,” he explained through a growl, “so far SCIU Canada doesn't have anything and I was reaching.”

Henry's fingers flew across the keys. It really was nice to have access to all this cool tech again. The holographic screens were pretty cool, too. And handy, because you could see through them to whatever someone else was doing. If he could get his hands on one of those Praxian neural-interface devices though, he'd be one happy camper. Maybe the Doc managed to find the specs for one during her hundred years in the past.

 _Nope, not there, either._ Henry went to the next place he could think of. _Not there. Or there._

Tesla's fingers seemed to have slowed. Then stopped. Henry looked over at his companion, then relegated him to his peripherals, continuing his work. “You got somethin'?”

Tesla's eyes flicked back and forth, reading his hologram screen. “Maybe, maybe not...”

Henry swept three more options out of the way before Tesla spoke again.

“This name,” Tesla said tersely, pinching the top of the holo-screen and twisting it through the air to show it to Henry. “I recognize it, but I can't say from where.”

Henry looked at the name, squinting. “Colin Murphy. He sounds like the head of an Irish punk band.”

“Ugh, the bane of music, then.”

“Shut up, grandpa. Go back to your Beethoven or whatever.”

Tesla snorted -- probably in spite of himself.

Well, there was definitely a way to find out. Henry spun back to his own terminal and began accessing a new program. It was his very own database; because every bit of data he ever gathered from his various hacks, cracks, and otherwise illicit behaviours was backed up to a hidden drive. If he, or anyone using his programs, ever came across the name, it would be there.

“Well, I can alwaayyss...” Henry tabbed over and typed in his query. “If I can find him here, I could tell you...”

Henry tapped in a few more commands, before hitting the Return key.

The light from the rapidly cycling screen made for a weird play of colour across his companion's face. An odd mottling of greens, blues, and reds flickered across his features, reminding Henry of way a movie's light would flicker against the wall of his apartment when he was outside the room. When he would stand in the hallway and sneak peeks at Erika, sitting on their couch with her elegant face pointed at the screen. At least he _had_ Erika. Poor Will must be a complete wreck with Abby gone, who knows where.

The lights shifted green as the search was completed. Henry was so caught up in his daydream that he didn't even notice that Tesla was suddenly looking over his shoulder at his screen.

“Ah, hell,” Tesla said simply, though the pinch in his brow suggested something else entirely.

Henry looked up at this mentor and met his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a brief shiver up his spine and the beginnings of a cold sweat. “We need to tell Magnus.”

 

.oOo.

 

“ _I love you!! End recording, transfer to personal system and send to--”_

Will couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel the seat beneath him. The tips of his fingers felt numb, hanging from his hands. His elbows were propped on his knees, body bent forward, unseeing eyes staring into the plush carpet in Magnus’ office. He hadn’t moved since Magnus had left the room, with a brief touch to his shoulder. Minutes ticked by, each second an opportunity to find her. To make a plan. To save Abby.

But each moment, his brain spun its wheels, getting nowhere. Abby was _gone._ Abby was gone, and it was his fault.

“ _My bosses are really peeved that someone beat them to the punch.”_

He never should have asked her to look into it. He should have insisted that she come down to Hollow Earth. He should have vetted her plan to pursue—

No, Abby would never have hated that. She was much too independent for Will to hold her hand through an investigation like that. She knew the risks… and she made the decision. She always said that she trusted him to get her out of whatever scrapes she might get herself into.

Will looked up with renewed determination. Abby trusted him. He would get her out.

Will was up and pacing in less than a moment. There was plenty to work with.

“ _Hmm. I seem to have picked up a tail. I'd better end this. Take care, babe, I lo--”_ The screeching breaks, the voices shouting, car doors being thrown closed, Abby's shouting... Four vehicles, large SUVs. Soft boots, economical movement; professional. No other voices, either, definitely professional. Well trained, no unnecessary movement or chatter at all. There was a cry of a gull in the background _(city centre or by the water.)_ And was that a horn from a boat?

“ _Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I've been making some progress on that lead you had...”_

Progress. Too much progress, it seemed. If investigation into _this_ avenue resulted in someone kidnapping her before any more information got leaked, he was perhaps more spot on that he wanted to be. But if that were the case, why didn’t they just kill her instead of going to the trouble of taking her off of the street in what was likely a busy area of Vancouver?

“ _Pass that on to our mutual friends – The Brass still has a BOLO out for them.”_

“ _You should keep your head down too, for a little while.”_

“ _They're concentrating on London, of course, but still. Be very, very careful.”_

Abby was taken, whisked away on the street, probably on her way home from work. From what little she could hear in that lucky, lucky recording, there were a handful of vehicles involved, which means co-ordination. That she had someone following her was also a point of concern. Obviously, the tail would have alerted the vehicles.

The tail.

Will paused, running that thought through his brain. A tail? Why would they bother to tail her? If it was SCIU, they would have access to where she works. They would know where she lives. They could have avoided a lot of potential trouble if they didn’t bother to take her off a crowded street.

Why would they go to the trouble? Why the drama of a kidnapping?

Unless…

 _Unless,_ it wasn’t meant for Abby. If it was meant to draw out the Sanctuary team. They knew that Abby was feeding information somewhere, _but they didn’t know where_. The whole thing was a trap to draw out more information.

Will began pacing again. The carpet beneath his feet was red, he realized. Red, with an almost paisley pattern, with subtle designs. Obviously, he was starting to come back down, the shock wearing off. The sounds, the tastes, the mental duality of Praxian screens and the Victorian décor. The world was beginning to regain colour.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was more to work with than he thought. Plus there was still Henry, he might get lucky and find more in SCIU’s database, though that didn’t seem quite right anymore. There was another player in the game that Will didn’t know. Or maybe he did – maybe Will’s tip was even more spot on than he thought.

Will pivoted on the spot, not even wasting a moment, poised to dash out the door to head to his own office. The answer would be in the investigation.

“ _Take care, babe, I lo--”_

 

.oOo.

 

If there was one thing that Gaëtan Dumas enjoyed, it was a good game of Cat and Mouse.

He'd ignored the young lady at first, assuming her blonde hair and wide smile were responsible for her position in the SCIU. He'd been pleasantly surprised, therefore, to have noticed something while monitoring her screen. It had nothing more than another low-priority report when he walked by, but he'd been monitoring her activities remotely and had seen a rather mysterious email appear in her inbox a few weeks ago. Clearly, former-agent Corrigan was more than she appeared.

He'd never even seen such a code before, and it rather excited him. Odd symbols in groupings that suggested a language he'd never seen before. Yes, surely his associate, a foremost expert on linguistics, would be most interested.

Gaëtan had plenty of fascinating associates.

There was a knock at his office door. He didn't even glance up. "Yes."

A young man with a military air walked in and stopped just short of a salute. "Sir."

Gaëtan looked up and surveyed the man for a moment. He wore a battle-hardened edge that did more to disquiet those in his surroundings than the tattoos that poked out of his sleeves onto his wrists. He was dressed simply in office attire, with a quiet confident air that most people couldn't place.

Save for Gaëtan, of course. He read it all in his stance; the careful and subtle sweep of his intense eyes when he entered the room, the grounded stance, his perfectly polished shoes, and the cold glint in his eye. He was a mercenary, plain and simple. Engaged to do the dirty work that was required to put Gaëtan's plan into motion.

He tossed the young man a thumb-drive. "Your instructions, Mr. Chen. Follow them to the letter." He didn't bother to add a threat, he didn't have to.

The man knew.

He nodded curtly.

"Dismissed."

He watched the young man leave, sharp and precise. He allowed himself the smallest of smiles. Yes, this would be the beginnings of a good game.

 


End file.
